


The Prince(ss) Switch

by flowercrownfemme



Category: One Direction (Band), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - The Princess Switch (2018), American Harry Styles, Baker Harry Styles, Baker Louis Tomlinson, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Father Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Jewish Harry Styles, M/M, Oops All Harries, Prince Derek Hale, Prince Harry Styles, Prince and the Pauper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercrownfemme/pseuds/flowercrownfemme
Summary: Days before Christmas, Harry travels with his best friend, Louis, to the far off land of Americania to attend a baking competition. While there Harry encounters the Americanian prince's fiance - who just happens to look exactly like him! When Harry finds out that his lookalike has always dreamed of being a baker the two decide to switch places until Christmas. Their perfect plan gets more and more complicated as they both begin to fall in love with exactly the wrong men.Or: The Princess Switch AU in which Harry is both Stacy and Margaret, Louis is Kevin, Derek is Edward, and there's a lot of accidental kitchen fires.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Harry Styles, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I haven't had much time to write this month but I really wanted to write at least something for Christmas so I decided on this! Hopefully it'll all be finished and posted by Christmas because I'm writing it as I go but it's fully mapped out and planned so it shouldn't be too hard to whip out. If you too are a fan of Netflix Christmas movies and Teen Wolf and Harry Styles being very stupid and slutty then I think you'll enjoy it!  
> Merry Christmas!

“Ouch!”

Harry dropped the tray of smouldering muffins onto the counter with a clang and frantically shook his hands, flinging the singed oven mitts off in different directions. He blew on his reddened fingers as the fire alarm screeched overhead. Maude, who had been busy with a customer at the counter, came rushing back to the kitchen with a fire extinguisher in hand.

“Where’s the fire?” she asked, pointing the nozzle around and looking for the source of the smoke.

“No fire,” Harry told her, coughing. “I put it out with the oven mitts.”

Maude picked up one of the discarded mitts from the floor, eyeing the black charred bits on the fabric, and used it to fan the thick smoke that filled the kitchen.

“You know you’re not supposed to touch anything back here,” she sighed.

“Sorry,” Harry frowned. He held up his still-pink fingers. “I burnt my hand.”

Maude pushed her wire-framed glasses up her nose and squinted at his supposed burn.

“I think you’ll live,” she told him kindly.

Harry perched on a stool and watched as she aired out the kitchen.

“I was practicing,” Harry explained. “I thought maybe if I got better I could help you all at the competition this weekend.”

“But then who would cheer us on from the crowd?” Maude asked, closing the oven door. “We’ll need our cheerleader if we’re going to win.”

“But - !”

Harry was interrupted by a loud cough and the light rhythmic tapping of small feet.

“Harry!”

Harry was suddenly plowed into by a young girl who threw her arms around his neck and hung from him like a wreath on a door. Harry grinned and stood up, letting her feet dangle above the ground. She laughed before suddenly her nose wrinkled and she looked around.

“Why’s it smell?” she asked.

“Harry,” sighed her father, hooking his apron over his head and stepping fully into the kitchen. “I’ve told you a million times not to touch anything in the kitchen - or in the bakery, for that matter. I’m losing too much revenue baking apology cupcakes for the fire department.”

“But  _ Louis _ ,” Harry insisted, “I’m getting better! These ones barely even caught on fire! I’d bet they’re even edible!”

The other man walked over to the blackened muffins on the counter and gave them a weary look. He plucked one from the pan and held it up.

“Would you like to eat this, Grace?” Louis asked the girl hanging from Harry’s neck. She stuck out her tongue.

“No, thank you.”

Harry gave an offended huff.

“Not even if your favorite godfather had baked it just for you?” he asked.

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head, giggling at the insulted look on Harry’s face.

“Fine,” Harry sulked. “I guess I’ll just go back to doing nothing, since that’s all I’m good for apparently.”

“Sounds great, Love,” Louis said, already getting to work on a fresh batch of muffins to replace the ones that Harry had burnt.

There had never been a time that Harry didn’t know Louis. Their mums had met at a support group for single mothers when Harry was just a baby and had become fast friends. Harry and Louis had been grouped together ever since, for play dates and carpool and family holidays. Louis had no other option but Harry when choosing the godfather of his child when Grace was born and Harry was very proud of the title. When Louis’ husband left them both shortly after Grace’s second birthday, he and Harry spent many long nights getting wine drunk and watching romcoms on the couch. It was because of this, along with a great deal of pushing from his mum, that Louis gave Harry a job when his bakery opened. It was supposed to be a temporary position at first, just something for Harry’s resume when he finally decided what he wanted for a career, but that was four years ago and he was still paying Harry a small salary to stay out of the kitchen and keep his hands to himself.

He’d tried to fire him six times but each time he was met with tearful eyes from both Harry and Grace and a stern phone call from his mother.

It was much the same reason that Harry procured a ticket to the international baking competition, despite having no skill with baked goods. Once Harry decided that an all-expense paid trip to the foreign country of Americania for a televised competition on Christmas Eve sounded exciting all it took was a pleading phone call to Anne who made a friendly call to Jay who made a very demanding call to Louis and suddenly Harry had been added to the official team for Tomlinson’s Bakery.

“Please,  _ please _ , don’t touch anything,” Louis begged as they arrived at their station in the large tent.

“What if there was an earthquake and everything got knocked over and you got buried under a pile of baking equipment and I was the only one there to lift them off of you?” Harry asked, Grace snickering behind him. “Could I touch your things then?”

“No,” Louis said, looking very tired.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just go over here and do cool things with the cooler, younger version of you.”

“Good plan,” Louis nodded as Harry turned to go. He caught Grace by the arm before she could follow him and said under his breath, “Keep an eye on him, will you? Call me if he touches anything flammable.”

Grace nodded dutifully and marched after Harry as Louis called after her to have fun.

Harry and Grace wandered through the tent, watching important-looking people bustle about shouting orders at each other. Harry entertained Grace with silly songs he made up on the spot about the garlands of candy strung everywhere and about the red-faced man in the tightly buttoned suit who was running around with a clipboard yelling at people. By the time they circled back around to Louis’ team’s station most of the equipment had been set up.

“Your dad must be off searching for something,” Harry told Grace. “Why don’t we give his station some positive energy? Maybe that’ll help him win.”

Grace copied him as he rubbed his hands together, the two of them squeezing their eyes shut and concentrating on positivity. Harry placed his now-warm open palm on the flat of the counter and Grace placed hers on the edge of it.

“Yes, this will help,” Harry nodded sagely. He picked up every whisk and spoon and spatula and held them each in turn. He cupped his hands over the top of the mixer and let out a loud yelp when it suddenly sprang to life, kicked into gear when his hand brushed over the ON switch.

Harry watched dumbstruck as the paddle knocked the not-yet-secured mixing bowl across the counter, knocking over every other bowl, utensil and ingredient that had been so carefully lined up for Louis to use. Harry scrambled to right all of the canisters and gather up the contents that were now scattered about but in his distraction he missed the movement of the mixer as it inched itself closer and closer to the edge of the counter, still spinning madly around.

“Harry!” Grace shrieked, making every head in the room turn towards them as the entire mixer dove off of the counter and broke into pieces with a loud crash.

Harry looked up to see Louis standing with his lips pressed tightly together.

“Nothing’s on fire?” Harry said meekly.

Suddenly the electrical outlet, where the plug of the mixer had been plugged in until moments ago, sparked and burst into flames.

Louis’ pursed lips turned down into a frown.

“Oops?”

Louis closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as people rushed to put out the fire.

“I was just trying to help,” Harry explained. “I’ve been reading about manifesting. I thought we could imbue good energy into your station and you’d win.”

“Did you have to  _ touch _ things for that?” Louis asked, his voice strained.

“I’m not that good at it yet,” Harry said defensively.

“Please,” Louis pleaded. “ _ Please, _ just go... Somewhere else.”

Harry nodded glumly and shuffled away.

He wandered sadly through the land surrounding the tent. The competition was being held on the grounds of the Americanian palace and if he wasn’t so downhearted he might have enjoyed looking around at the scenery as he walked along the twisting concrete paths. He walked past large cactuses and palm trees and a billboard advertising a nearby megachurch. Eventually he made his way into a small courtyard which circled a fountain with a figure of Ronald McDonald in a very revealing outfit, shooting water out of his open mouth. Harry wondered if he could find a pair of shorts as short as the ones Ronald was wearing. He was so busy looking at the statue that he didn’t see the person walking his way until the moment they collided.

The two men tumbled sideways into the fountain with a large splash, both of them sputtering as they scrambled to right themselves.

“Oops!” they said in unison, wiping water from their eyes. “Are you alright?”

Two pairs of green eyes widened when they saw each other.

Sitting across from Harry in the fountain, wet hair stuck to his forehead and a lily pad plopped on his head, was a man who looked exactly like him.

Harry lifted his hand and watched as the other man mirrored the movement. He turned his head and watched from the corner of his eye as the movement was again copied. He swung his head back to center as fast as he could but the other man beat him to it.

“How - ?” he started to ask just as the other man said “Who - ?”

They both laughed.

“Come with me,” the other man said. “I’ll find you some dry clothes and we can talk.”

Harry took his hand when it was offered and let the other man pull him out of the fountain. He followed him to a side entrance of the palace and down a corridor. The other man peaked around a corner before ushering Harry quickly up a flight of stairs and into garishly furbished suite. He closed the door and let out a breath he’d been holding.

“Who are you?” he asked in an American accent.

“I’m Harry,” Harry told him in his own British accent, holding out his hand. “Harry Styles.”

“ _ I’m _ Harry,” the other Harry said, placing his hand delicately in Harry’s. “Harry Edward James Margaret Charles Hugh Vanessa Kimberly Dancy The Third.”

“Wow,” the first Harry said. “Are you a prince or summat?”

“Almost,” Other Harry smiled. “Duchess for now. Engaged to be married to Prince Derek. What about you?”

“I work in a bakery,” First Harry grinned proudly.

“Oh,” Other Harry sighed wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to be a baker. It’s always been my secret dream. I used to sneak into the kitchens any chance I got just to have a chance to bake. Now that I’m engaged to the prince though I don’t have any time for that.”

“That’s so sad,” First Harry frowned. He squeezed Other Harry’s hand which was still in his own. He glanced over at the large ornate mirror on the wall and caught sight of their reflections. “Wow,” he said. “We really are identical.”

Other Harry followed his line of sight and nodded.

“We could be sisters,” he said, walking closer to the mirror as First Harry did the same.

“Twins,” First Harry agreed.

Side-by-side it was easy to see that the two men looked the same in every way, from the line of their jaws to the slope of their noses and the beauty mark just below the corner of their lips. The only notable difference was the length of their hair. American Harry’s hair curled just above his ears but British Harry’s hair flowed down to his chest. Other than that, though, one might think they were clones. The flecks of blue and grey in their green eyes and the pink shade of their lips were all exact copies of one another.

Simultaneously they turned away from the mirror and looked at each other then reached for the buttons of their trousers, curious how far their similarities went.

“Harry Edward, I - ”

They both looked up from their half-undone flies as an older man walked through the door and froze.

“There’s two of you,” he said, his eyes flitting from one to the other.

“Yep,” both Harries said in unison.

“You doin’ a switch?” he asked.

First Harry looked to Other Harry and shrugged.

“Yep,” Both Harries said in unison.

“Is it a Parent Trap thing or a Barbie Princess and the Popstar thing?” he asked.

“The second one,” First Harry said.

“There’s no parents involved,” Other Harry added. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

The man shrugged.

“Sure, I don’t have anything better to do. I’ll help.” He held out his hand to the Harry with the long hair. “I’m Peter.”

“Harry,” Harry said, shaking his hand.

“Well one of you is going to have to change that.”

“Most people call me Edward,” Other Harry supplied.

“That’s good,” Peter nodded. “Otherwise this could get confusing.”

“Yes, so I’ll be Harry and you’ll be Edward,” the Harry who worked in a bakery agreed. “Just in case anybody is confused.”

“Well technically,” Edward countered, “ _ I’ll _ be Harry and  _ you’ll _ be Edward.”

“I’m confused,” Harry frowned.

“That’s okay,” Edward said understandingly.

“You’ll need a haircut,” Peter said suddenly. Harry’s hand flew up to clutch his long beautiful hair protectively. “You’ll be caught right away if you don’t have the same haircut.”

“Maybe Edward could grow his out?” Harry suggested.

Peter just shook his head.

“I’ve got some scissors on my vanity,” Edward said. “We could do it right now.”

Harry backed up until he hit the wall, still holding his hair and looking wearily between them.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he said apprehensively. “Maybe my hair and I should just go back to England and we could all be pen pals or something.”

“Harry,” Edward said gently, coming to take Harry’s hand once more. “This is my last chance to live my dream. You’re the only hope I have of ever experiencing the one thing I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. After this I'll be stuck doing princely duties until I die.”

Edward squeezed his hand and looked imploringly into his eyes.

“ _ Please _ ,” he begged.

Harry chewed on his lip, frowning.

“I want to help you,” he said. “I do. It’s just...”

“Here,” Peter interrupted, holding out his phone. “That’s my nephew, Derek.”

Harry leaned in to look at the screen. He saw a handsome man with dark hair, captured mid-blink in the background of a selfie of Peter.  


“That’s the one you’re engaged to?” he asked Edward.

“Yeah,” Edward nodded.

“Oh, sure,” Harry said easily, dropping into the nearest chair. “Grab the scissors.”

“Oh,” Edward said, takenaback. “Yeah, sure. Okay.”

Harry only cried a little bit while they cut his hair and Edward held his hand through the worst of it. The two of them helped each other to learn their accents and mannerisms and exchanged what they thought to be the most important information about each of their lives. Harry told Edward about his family and about Louis and Grace and Edward in turn told Harry about his own lineage and taught him how to greet each member of the royal family. Peter chipped in with advice every now and then but mostly sat back and laughed at Harry when he cried and at Edward when his British accent kept coming out sounding vaguely Russian.

“There,” Peter said, fixing Harry’s hair when the two emerged from Edward’s walk-in closet, wearing each other’s clothes. “Now you’re exactly the same: Annoying.”

“Wow,” Harry and Edward said in unison, twin expressions on awe pointed at each other. “You look just like me!”

“Alright, Edward, you’ll go back to the competition and live out your quaint baker dreams,” Peter directed, “and Harry, you’ll stay here and pretend to be Edward. I’ll bring up your dinner and come back here whenever I can. Don’t leave this room unless I tell you to and don’t talk to anybody any more than you absolutely have to.”

“But what about Derek?” Harry asked, the reality of the situation suddenly filling him with anxiety. “Edward’s his fiance, won’t he notice I’m not him?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Edward reassured him. “He doesn’t talk to me. You probably won’t even see him until the Christmas Eve competition tomorrow night. He only leaves his room for food and events.”

“Okay,” Harry said, taking a deep calming breath.

“Ready?” Peter asked.

“Ready,” Harry and Edward replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fic post](https://lesbianiconharrystyles.tumblr.com/post/638081675120771072/the-princess-switch-days-before-christmas-harry)


	2. Chapter 2

Edward was weaving through baking stations in the competition tent, looking for the one decked out in British flags that Harry had described to him, when suddenly something barreled into him and wrapped short arms around his neck.

Edward let out a small shriek and nearly toppled over, just barely getting his feet under him without crashing into the nearest row of ovens.

“Uncle Harry!” a high voice giggled. “Dad’s been looking for you. He said it’s time to go.”

“Grace,” Edward said, recognizing the eight year old girl that Harry told him about. He cleared his throat and tried to remember the way Harry’s voice sounded. “Yeah. Yes. Let’s go to your dad. Chip chop.”

Grace gave him a funny look but still took his hand and lead him to her father’s station. Standing at the counter, nervously reorganizing wooden spoons, was the most handsome man Edward had ever seen. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks as the man’s bright blue eyes focused on him, the rest of the world seeming to fall away as their eyes met.

“What did you do to your hair?” the man frowned.

“What?” Edward asked dumbly.

“Your hair,” the man repeated. “You’ve cut it.”

“Oh,” Edward said, raising his hand to touch the hair in question. “I cut it.”

“I can see,” the man responded patiently. “Any reason?”

“Oh, I just, um, wanted a change.”

“Really?” the man said, squinting suspiciously. “But you love your hair. You’ve never even let me touch it. You say all the time it’s your best feature.”

“And I decided to change,” Edward said defensively. “My hair, I mean. Sometimes change is good.”

“Okay,” the man said, still looking at him oddly. Then he smiled, softly. “I like it. Looks good.”

Edward smiled bashfully, fluttering his eyelashes. Louis cleared his throat.

“C’mon. It’s getting late. We should head back to the Air BnB.”

“Pish posh, innit?” Edward agreed.

“So Talia will be sitting at the head of the table. Make sure you bow to her before you sit,” Peter reminded Harry.

“Can I curtsy?” Harry asked. “I think Edward would curtsy.”

“Sure,” Peter said tiredly. “Curtsy, bow, whatever you want. Who cares if you get caught, it’ll only be a lifetime in the dungeon for you both.”

Harry pursed his lips.

“I’ll bow.”

“Good. Then Laura and Cora will be on either side of her. Cora’s younger and has longer hair. You don’t need to bow to them, just greet them both before you sit.”

“I know,” Harry huffed. “Edward told me all that.”

“Then maybe you won’t fuck up too bad,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t worry so much,” Harry told him. “I’m great at improvising and Edward told me everything I need to know. I think I can handle breakfast with a few royals.”

“Alright,” Peter conceded, leading Harry down the hallway towards the dining room. “Oh, one more thing,” he said just as they reached the entrance.

“Yeah?”

“Every member of our family is a werewolf and you’re supposed to be one too. Good luck!”

“Wait, what?” Harry asked, frowning. Rather than reply Peter just shoved him into the room with a grin.

“Good morning, Sister Dear,” he simpered, waltzing over to take the queen’s hand. He bowed his head and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles even as she waved him off.

Harry stood frozen in the doorway, four apparent werewolves looking at him curiously.

“Um,” he said then coughed into his fist. “G-good morning... Your Majesty.”

He walked stiffly towards the woman at the head of the table and lowered his shoulders into an awkward bow.

“Princess Laura,” he said to the girl on her right, and “Princess Cora,” to the girl on the left. 

“Good morning, Harry Edward,” Queen Talia said, still watching him oddly as he sat in the empty chair across from Peter.

Harry jumped when a server suddenly appeared at his shoulder and began to fill his plate with eggs and meat and fruit. Laura and Cora made small talk as they ate and Talia smiled, taking elegant bites of her eggs.

Harry wondered if what Peter told him could really be true. He’d always thought werewolves were just something from horror movies and sexy teen romances. The royal family couldn’t really be werewolves, could they?

“Sir Edward,” Cora asked, tilting her head, “are you feeling okay? Your scent is off.”

“I - ” Harry stuttered. “I, um, I - ”

“Cora,” Talia scolded. “You know it’s rude to comment on somebody’s scent, especially at the table.” She looked to Harry apologetically. “I’m very sorry.”

“I- it’s alright,” Harry told her, sweat prickling on the palms of his hands. “Just, uh, allergies, I think.”

“Yes, that’ll do it,” Peter smirked into his coffee cup.

Just then a scowling figure swept into the room and Harry’s heart leapt in his chest. The man was tall and broad with dark tousled hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He walked quickly towards the table with his head down, going straight for the blueberry muffins stacked between Laura and Cora. He grabbed one roughly and turned to make a hasty retreat.

“Derek?” Peter called smugly, making the man stop halfway to the door. “Aren’t you going to bid goodmorning to your betrothed?”

Derek turned, frowning, towards Harry and gave him a curt nod before fleeing the room. Harry fell in love instantly.

Edward was woken early in the morning by a pajama-clad Grace who demanded breakfast made by her favorite godfather. Edward sent her off to watch cartoons while he got dressed and shuffled down to the kitchen. He looked through the pantry and the fridge and made a pile on the counter with all of the ingredients he needed. By the time Grace and Louis made their way downstairs the table was set and there was a stack of crepes and an omelette on each plate.

“What’s all this?” Grace asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Crepes with strawberries and cream and omelettes with veggies and cheese,” Edward said proudly.

“Did you make all this?” Louis asked, frowning at the piles of food.

“Yes,” Edward said, his smile faltering. “Did I do something wrong? Grace told me to make breakfast so I made breakfast.”

“I meant cereal,” said Grace. “You only ever make cereal. It’s the only thing you can’t set on fire.”

“Well I’ve been, uh, practicing,” Edward told them. “I wanted to surprise you both.”

“It looks great, Love,” Louis said, reaching out and squeezing Edward’s arm before taking a seat. He gave Grace a pointed look and she sat down next to him. Edward watched as Grace speared a single slice of strawberry on her fork and Louis took a more daring hunk of omelette on his. They raised their forks cautiously to their mouths and each took a tentative bite.

“Oh, wow,” Louis said, his eyes widening in surprise. “This is really good. You really made it?”

“I did,” Edward grinned. He set a pitcher on the table between them. “I made fresh squeezed orange juice, too.”

“Wow,” Louis said again, looking up at him with an expression of awe. “This really is amazing.”

Edward blushed, fiddling with the strings of his apron, and took his own seat.

Louis sat back with a hand on his belly when all of the food was gone, groaning about how full he was and how good the breakfast had been. Edward smiled, proud that Louis liked his cooking so much.

“Why don’t we take a little trip into town?” Louis suggested. “I saw a lot of little shops on that street we drove down yesterday. Maybe we could do a little extra Christmas shopping.”

“Yeah!” Grace grinned.

Louis looked to Edward who smiled and nodded.

“Great,” Louis said, standing up. “I’ll go get cleaned up and we can go.”

Edward watched him walk up the stairs, a dreamy expression on his face. He couldn’t believe that Harry hadn’t mentioned how handsome he was - or how kind. From how Harry described him Edward was envisioning a portly old baker with an uptight attitude who never took a break from his work. Instead Louis was like a daydream, all bright eyes and dazzling smiles. He was everything Edward had ever wanted.

The door to Louis’ room shut and Grace’s smile slipped away.

“Who are you?” she asked, giving him a calculating look.

“Wh-what?” Edward stammered. “I’m Harry. Your, um, godfather.”

“No you’re not,” she said. “Harry can’t turn the stove on without setting something on fire.”

“I told you,” Edward argued. “I’ve been practicing.”

Grace shook her head.

“You didn’t sing the bedtime song last night. Harry always sings a special bedtime song when he tucks me in. You didn’t even sing a normal bedtime song.”

“I must have, um, forgotten,” Edward said, sweating.

“Then sing it,” Grace told him. “Sing the bedtime song.”

“Um, okay,” Edward said. He began to sing tunelessly. “ _ It’s bedtime... It’s bedtime... It’s time to go to bed....  _ Um.... _ You should rest your head.... _ ”

Grace gave him a withering look.

“That’s not even a little bit the bedtime song.”

“Okay, fine!” Edward hissed, glancing nervously towards the top of the stairs. “I’m not Harry, alright?”

“I knew it!” Grace said, puffing up. “I  _ knew _ you weren’t Harry!”

“Shh!” Edward whispered. “Quiet! You can’t tell anybody, but I’m about to be a prince. I met Harry yesterday and we realized we look identical so we switched places. I’ve always wanted to be a baker and this is my only chance. Harry and I are going to switch back tonight at the competition - please, don’t tell anybody until then.”

They both looked up when they heard Louis’ door open again.

“Please,” Edward whispered.

Grace frowned and looked between him and her father who was walking down the stairs.

“Are you two ready to go?” Louis asked.

Edward looked imploringly at Grace who nodded.

“Yep!” she chirped. “All ready!”

“Thank you,” Edward whispered as they walked to the car.

Harry was lounging around in Edward’s suite when he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” he called, assuming it was Peter coming to bring him some lunch. He straightened up instantly when he saw Derek peek his head in, shielding his body with the door. “Prince Derek,” Harry breathed, smoothing his newly cut hair.

“Sir Edward,” Derek said, his jaw tight. “I was hoping you might accompany me for a stroll.”

His pained expression told Harry that this offer for companionship was not his own idea and that he had likely been forced into it but Harry wasn’t one to turn down any sort of offer from an attractive man.

“Of course,” he said eagerly. He grabbed one of the plush, expensive coats from Edward’s wardrobe and followed Derek out into the hall.

While they walked through the grounds of the palace Harry talked endlessly about the beautiful scenery and the delicious breakfast they’d had that morning and about anything else that popped into his mind. Derek walked beside him silently, seeming content to ignore Harry’s chattering. They walked past the stables and Harry lead them closer so that he could greet the horses. 

“Oh, they’re beautiful!” Harry said, petting the nose of a large russet stallion. “It’s so nice that they’ve all got blankets. A warm horse is a happy horse, you know. Is one of them yours?”

Derek grunted and nodded towards a regal looking white quarter horse in a nearby stall.

“He’s lovely,” Harry smiled, walking over to give that horse a pet as well. “What’s his name?”

Derek grit his teeth.

“...Eric.”

“Aren’t you a pretty boy, Eric?” Harry cooed, petting the horse’s velvety nose. “Yes, such a handsome boy!”

“Sir Edward, we should- ”

“Harry,” Harry said, looking up from the horse.

“Huh?”

“Call me Harry. We’re about to be wed, aren’t we? I’d think you could call me by my first name.”

Derek cleared his throat.

“Harry,” he said, seeming to try out the word. “We should head back to the palace.”

“Alright,” Harry said. Before Derek could step away, Harry reached out and caught his hand in his own. Derek froze at the contact, his hand stiff and awkward in Harry’s. Harry just smiled widely at him and started to walk towards the palace. After a few steps Derek seemed to relax, letting Harry thread their fingers together.

As they approached the palace Harry was surprised to see a swarm of children running wild on the manicured lawn. Derek groaned beside him and quickened his steps.

“Sir Edward! Derek!” Laura called to them.

Derek grit his teeth as if bracing for something terrible as Laura broke away from the group of children and came to meet them.

“You’re just in time for the outreach!”

“What’s all this again?” Harry asked. “Um, remind me.”

“It’s the outreach program I do once a week for all of the local werewolf children,” Laura explained. “Their parents bring them here to the palace and we help them get used to their powers in a safe environment. A lot of their families can’t afford to send them to specialized werewolf schools so we try to bridge the gap and help out less fortunate families.”

“That’s so nice,” Harry said, his eyes getting a bit misty as he looked around at the rambunctious children.

“Would you like to stay and help?”

“I’ve really got to go-” Derek said just as Harry said “Of course we’ll stay and help!”

Derek winced and Harry sent him a beatific smile. He tightened his grip on Derek’s hand and drug him around to talk to all of the children. Derek stood at his side, glowering silently while Harry talked animatedly with the group of little girls braiding each other’s hair and the boys who were chasing a lizard and with the older tweens who asked, giggling, if Harry was Derek’s boyfriend.

“I’m his fiance,” Harry grinned smugly, holding out the sparkly ring that Edward had given him to wear.

When Harry noticed the little boy sitting in the grass with big shining tears running down his face he gasped and rushed to the boy’s side, hauling Derek along with him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling beside the boy who looked maybe a year or two younger than Grace.

The boy just kept crying but the boy sitting next to him who looked to be the same age answered for him.

“He’s sad cause he can’t turn into a wolf yet,” the boy explained. “Everyone else can but he can’t so they don’t let him play with them. They said he’s too much of a baby to be a wolf.”

“Oh no,” Harry tutted. He let go of Derek’s hand and pulled the crying boy into a tight hug. “It’s okay...”

“Scott,” the boy’s friend supplied. “And I’m Stiles.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Stiles,” Harry smiled. “And you too, Scott.”

He loosened his embrace and wiped away the boy’s tears. Scott sniffled and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“I’d bet you’re going to be a great werewolf, Scott,” Harry told him. “Werewolves develop at all different speeds and just because you’re taking a little longer to shift doesn’t mean anything. It just means you’re taking your time. When did you first shift, Derek?”

“When I was three,” Derek frowned.

“Oh. What about you, Stiles? Have you shifted yet?”

“Stiles isn’t a wolf,” Scott said, giggling snottily.

“Oh, really?” Harry asked, glad to see Scott smiling at last. “Why does he come here then?”

“He comes to werewolf practice with me cause his dad watches me on Wednesdays and Thursdays and my mom watches him on the other days and nobody else will watch him cause he’s a handful.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Cause I’m a handful.”

“How old were you when you first shifted?” Scott asked Harry.

“Oh,” Harry said, furrowing his brows. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to be a werewolf as well. “Um, around your age. How old are you?”

“Seven.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “I was seven when I first shifted, just like you. And I turned out alright, didn’t I?”

“I guess,” Scott shrugged.

“And you’ll turn out alright too,” Harry promised him.

“Okay,” Scott said.

He and Stiles climbed to their feet and ran off to look for bugs.

“You’re good with them,” Derek said, his face still stuck in a scowl. Harry wondered if his mother had been right when she told him as a child that if he frowned too much his face would get stuck. Maybe that’s what happened to Derek.

“I  _ love _ children,” Harry told him brightly. “Can’t wait to have some of my own. I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”

“I’m bad with kids,” Derek admitted gruffly. “The last time I came to one of these Malia over there bit me.”

“As a wolf?” Harry frowned.

“No.”

“Oh. Well I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Derek pulled back his sleeve to reveal a deep scar on his forearm. Harry could just about count every tooth in Malia’s mouth from it.

“Oh,” Harry said again, furrowing his brows. He ran the tips of two fingers lightly over the raised scar and saw goosebumps rise on Derek’s arm. “I guess I’ll just have to be good enough for the both of us, then.”

He walked over to Malia and Kira who were playing in the dirt, leaving Derek frozen behind him.

Edward’s shopping trip with Louis and Grace was nearly disastrous so he was glad that Grace suggested watching a movie when they got back to the house. Louis queued up the latest Netflix Christmas movie and the three of them curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets.

They’d been browsing Christmas decorations in a small toy store when Edward saw a small elf in a red jumpsuit holding a sign that said ‘I’m Watching You.’ He’d jumped back, startled, and grabbed Louis’ arm.

“What is that thing?” he asked, fear in his eyes.

“This?” Louis asked, frowning, and pointed at the terrible little creature that seemed to sneer down at them. “It’s an elf-on-a-shelf. Didn’t you have one growing up? I thought you did. They’re cute, they watch over the house until Christmas to make sure everybody’s being good.”

“Oh, I, um, forgot,” Edward said, loosening his grip on Louis’ arm. “They just... Make me nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” Louis teased, slinging his arm over Edward’s shoulders. “I’m sure you’ve been a very good boy this year. No naughty list for you, eh?”

“No what?” Edward frowned. He was suddenly wishing he’d thought to mention to Harry that he was Jewish.

“The naughty list...” Louis said, looking slightly concerned. “From Santa?”

“Of course,” Edward nodded, forcing a small laugh. “I know who Santa is. I thought you said ‘Mommy Liz.’ That’s why I was confused.”

“Okay...” Louis said. “So you don’t like elf-on-a-shelf. What’s your favorite Christmas tradition then?”

“Oh, gee,” Edward said, looking around. “There’s just so many that I love. Um, I love when we decorate the, uh, yule log. And when we put on the stockings. And, um, eat mistletoe. I love Jesus. Love celebrating his, um, death?”

Edward really regretted not asking Harry how Christmas worked.

“What are you talking about?” Louis had frowned, chuckling as if he wasn’t sure what the joke was.

“Hey, look! Grace found a big teddy bear!” Edward pointed to the other side of the store with an overly large grin. “Let’s go buy it so we can put it in the chimney for her!”

He was very proud of his diversion tactic and it seemed to have worked well enough. Louis hadn’t asked him any more questions about Christmas and now there was a movie giving him an excuse not to talk. Edward startled when halfway through the movie there was a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Grace slumped against him, fast asleep.

“Shh,” Louis whispered, smiling fondly at them both. “I’ll take her up to bed so she can nap. We did a lot of walking today and she’ll be exhausted tonight if she doesn’t rest.”

Carefully, he scooped her up and stood. Edward admired the muscles that flexed in Louis’ arms and the gentle way he held Grace, maneuvering his way up the stairs without jostling her.

When Louis returned he took the now empty spot beside Edward. The heat of Louis’ thigh against his made a soft flush rise to Edward’s cheeks. On the TV the couple was sharing a sweet kiss beside a professionally decorated Christmas tree, both of them bundled in cozy winter sweaters. Edward glanced to his side and found Louis gazing at him, seeming lost in thought.

“What?” Edward murmured.

“You’re different,” Louis said. When Edward cocked his head he continued, “Good different, I mean. I like it.”

“Oh,” Edward smiled. He looked down at where their legs pressed together.

“I’ve known you my whole life,” Louis told him. “I thought I knew you better than anybody. I’ve always thought of you like a little brother, you know. I did, at least. It’s... Different now. Suddenly. It’s like suddenly I don’t know you at all - but I’d like to.”

He took Edward’s hand in his own, his skin warm and soft. His fingers fit like puzzle pieces between Edward’s.

“I’d like to know you too,” Edward breathed, leaning closer.

When their lips brushed it was like magic. Every nerve ending in Edward’s body lit up and his head felt like an upturned snow globe. Louis’ arms snaked around his waist and held him against his chest, his kisses filled with a promise of love.

“Harry,” he gasped against Edward’s mouth and suddenly Edward remembered who he was and, more importantly, who he wasn’t.

He pulled back from Louis’ embrace and stood up.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Edward muttered, pressing his fingers to his freshly kissed lips.

“Harry?” Louis said, looking worried. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I- ”

“I’m gonna take a nap,” Edward announced, walking backwards towards the stairs. “I think Grace had the right idea. I think we’re all very tired. Very very tired. We should get some rest before the competition, don’t you think?” He bumped into the banister of the staircase and stumbled before righting himself. “I’m gonna do... That... Wake me up when it’s time to leave!”

And with that he dashed up the stairs, leaving Louis looking bemused on the couch. 

Peter was exasperated by the time he found Harry on the lawn of the palace, surrounded by shifted young wolves. He was happily doling out pets and tossing tennis balls, blissfully unaware of the stress he’d put Peter under when Peter had gone to collect him for the baking competition and found Edward’s room empty.

“Sir Edward,” Peter said curtly. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to attend the competition? I believe it’s time for you to  _ change clothes.” _

“Oh,” Harry said sadly, looking around at the children and up at Derek who had only just begun to relax. The day had passed so quickly, he felt like it had only just started. But he and Edward had agreed, twenty four hours and they’d switch back. His time was up. “Yes, you’re right. We’d better go.”

He extracted himself from the puppy pile that had formed around him and brushed himself off. He walked to Derek and took his hand.

“Goodbye,” he said softly, and pulled him into a quick hug. Derek froze in surprise at the action and when Harry pulled back he looked a bit dazed.

The competition tent was a flurry of anxious bakers and fast-talking business people. Peter drug Harry through the crowd to a small green room in a back corner that was unoccupied but for one man.

“Harry!” Edward sighed, rushing to greet him with a hug. “It’s so good to see you. This has been such a wonderful day. I have so much to tell you - did you know you’re not allowed to bake?”

“Oh yeah,” Harry nodded. “Louis says I’m a liability for his business. Did you know Americania is entirely ruled by werewolves?”

“It’s one of the best kept secrets in the world,” Edward nodded. “How does Christmas work? I forgot to tell you I’m Jewish.”

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed. “That explains why everyone kept looking at me weird when I told them I was excited for Christmas!”

Peter flopped into an armchair and pulled out his phone, rolling his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me Louis is so handsome?” Edward asked.

“Louis?” Harry said, wrinkling his nose. “I think you mean  _ Derek. _ He’s the one who’s handsome.”

“And sweet,” Edward continued dreamily. “He’s been so kind to me. I forgot what it was like for a man to actually talk to me. And he’s an amazing kisser...”

“You _kissed_ _Louis?”_ Harry squawked, looking scandalized.

“I did,” Edward sighed, starry eyed.

“I didn’t get to kiss Derek,” Harry frowned petulantly. “If you got a kiss I should get one too.”

Just then there was a knock on the door.

“Harry?” someone called from outside.

“Yes?” Harry and Edward both replied. The knob on the door began to turn and they both scrambled to decide who would be Harry in that moment. Edward ended up shoved behind a small couch and Harry straightened up, trying to look natural.

“There you are,” Louis said, looking relieved.

“Here I am,” Harry said, giving an awkward thumbs up. “Just me and, uh, him.” He gestured to Peter who was still looking at his phone.

“Something’s happened,” Louis told him, looking worried. He stepped closer and took Harry’s hand in his. Harry wrinkled his nose at the contact. His hands always smelled like sourdough whenever Louis touched him. “The rest of the team went out for dinner last night at some local chain seafood restaurant and they all got food poisoning! Maude and Liam and Niall and Zayn - all of them are stuck in their hotel rooms throwing up! We won’t be able to compete.”

“Wow,” Harry said, trying to look empathetic. “That, like, sucks.”

“We’ll have to withdraw from the competition,” Louis said sadly. “Unless...”

Harry had gotten distracted, looking at Louis’ apron and wondering what Derek might look like wearing only an apron, so he jumped when Louis suddenly snapped his fingers.

“You said you’ve been practicing your baking, didn’t you? And that breakfast you cooked this morning was amazing. Do you think  _ you _ could fill in for my team?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know...”

Louis was getting excited now, his face suddenly filled with hope.

“You’ll do brilliant, I  _ know _ you will,” he promised, squeezing Harry’s hand. “I’ve got to go notify the judges that my team is changing. Go find an apron and meet me at the station. You’re a lifesaver, Love.”

Before Harry could dodge the attack Louis’ lips were pressed against his cheek in a quick smacking kiss and then suddenly he was gone.

“Yuck!” Harry retched, wiping his cheek on his sleeve as soon as Louis was out the door.

“Did you hear that?” Edward asked, coming out of his hiding spot. “He needs me!” 

“I mean, I  _ work _ at a bakery, I think  _ I _ could probably win a stupid baking competition,” Harry grumbled under his breath.

“Please, Harry,” Edward implored earnestly. “Can we stay switched, just for a little longer? Just until after the competition?”

Harry brought one finger to his chin and thought it over. On one hand he quite enjoyed being a duchess engaged to a handsome prince. On the other, he liked drama and enjoyed having the upper hand in this deal.

Peter rolled his eyes once more and decided that maybe he liked causing problems on purpose more than he liked helping people. He twisted to take a selfie with both Harry and Edward in the background and sent off an email to every gossip column that had ever offered him money for a story on the royal family.

“Alright,” Harry said graciously. “I’ll do it!”

“Thank you!” Edward squealed, wrapping Harry in a tight hug.

Edward ran off to find an apron and Harry followed Peter to their seats. The competition was being filmed in front of a studio audience and broadcast live around the world. The host, a handsome man with a toothy smile and a shiny suit, introduced the contestants and explained the challenge - to bake a large multi-tiered cake and decorate it in a way that represented how the baker felt about Christmas.

The large clock on the wall began to countdown the bakers’ time and Edward and Louis sprung into action as the crowd cheered. Edward let Louis instruct him, following Louis’ recipe for a peppermint-infused chocolate cake. They got the pans in the oven with no trouble and started prepping their decorations. As soon as the cakes were cooled they began to ice and stack them until they had a large tower of cake. Edward helped Louis to cover the cake in velvety red buttercream and gold shimmer dust, piping small designs and arranging beautiful buttercream roses that cascaded down the side.

When the time ran out they both stepped back and Edward was left breathless as he took in their creation.

While most of the teams had chosen kitschy depictions of Santa Claus, wrapped gifts, candy canes and Christmas trees, Louis had instead created a love letter to the season. The cake put an emphasis on the romance of the holidays, made in warm shades of red and gold and soft peachy pink and dripping in snow-dusted flowers. It seemed to glow as the studio lights bounced off of the shimmer dust and the sugar he used as snow.

When the judges came forward to announce the rankings Louis took Edward’s hand and held it tightly, his nerves clear in the slight tremor of his fingers.

“In third place, with their candy ice rink,” said a judge who Edward recognized as a famous food critic, “Bakkerij Bakery, from Belgium!”

The crowd clapped as the Beljian team took their small trophy.

“And in second place, with their marshmallow spectacular, Brutărie Bakery, from Romania!”

The Romanian team took their slightly larger trophy and Louis’ grip on Edward’s hand got tighter.

“And finally,” the judge said, “in first place, with their bevy of roses...”

Edward heard Louis’ breath catch in his throat.

“Tomlinson’s Bakery, from England!”

The crowd cheered and Edward found himself scooped into Louis’ arms as the other man let out an excited whoop. Grace came running from her seat in the audience and Louis easily folded her into their embrace.

“And now, to present your award,” the judge said over the sound of the crowd, “please welcome Prince Derek and his soon-to-be-husband, Sir Edward of Califalia!”

“What?” Edward said, his smile drooping when he saw Derek standing up from the audience.

“Oh, worm?” Harry asked as Peter shoved him towards the prince. Derek held out his hand to Harry and led him to the small stage where the judges stood with the trophies. Louis looked between the two Harries, his jaw slack with surprise. The room went silent as the crowd took in the identical appearance of the winning contestant and the duchess.

“Um,” Edward said.

“Oh wow!” Harry said, feigning shock. “You look just like me, commoner! What a surprising twist!”

“...Yes!” Edward said after a moment, nodding his head. “We are also just now finding out this information!”

“Harry?” Louis said to the man beside him.

“Yeah?” both Harries replied in unison.

“Shit,” the real Harry muttered from the stage. “I mean, um, that’s Harry. Not me. I’m Edward.”

“What’s going on?” Louis asked.

Edward squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw.

“I might... maybe... not be Harry?”

“So that’s...” Louis pointed to Harry on the stage who waved back at him.

Derek looked as though he wanted to die, but really not much more than he usually did.

“My mom’s gonna be so mad I took home the wrong Harry,” Louis said to himself.

“We met yesterday and realized we looked identical,” Edward explained, slipping easily into his own accent. “I’d always dreamed of being a baker so I convinced Harry to switch places with me. It seemed like a perfect plan - only I never planned on falling in love...”

He took Louis’ hand again and Louis’ confused expression shifted into something sweeter.

“Neither did I,” Harry added, stepping closer to Derek.

“You... You love me?” Derek asked, furrowing his brows.

“I do,” Harry said, taking Derek’s hand. “I know I’m not a werewolf but- ”

“Werewolf?” Louis asked, looking between them all.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry nodded. “The entire Americanian royal family are werewolves. It’s, like, a secret.”

“Are  _ you _ a werewolf?” Louis asked Edward.

“Yes,” Harry and Derek said just as Edward said “No.”

“What?” Harry and Derek both said, rounding to look at Edward.

“Yeah,” Edward admitted sheepishly. “I’m actually not a werewolf. My parents are. I’m the only one in my family who was born a human. That’s why they made me get engaged to Prince Derek. I’m the shame of the family.”

“Don’t werewolves have a really strong sense of smell?” Harry asked Derek. “Why couldn’t you smell that neither of us was a werewolf?”

“I never actually stood close enough to Edward to scent him,” Derek explained. “And I did think it was strange that you didn’t smell like wolf but I didn’t want to say anything. I thought it might make you talk more.”

“Well,” Harry said, smiling, “do you think maybe I could smell like... Your husband?”

Derek leaned in and pressed his nose to Harry’s temple, letting Harry’s curls press against his cheek, and nodded.

The crowd began a new round of clapping and cheering and all four men beamed, lost in a haze of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!  
> The last chapter will just be a short epilogue but in case that doesn't get posted in the next thirty hours I would like to bid you all a Merry Christmas!!  
> -Chloe xxx


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